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The floor, walls, and columns are made out of a smooth pearly white stone with speckles of black and grey scattered across. Everything seems to have this clean, polished slickness to it that none of you (except Max) are used to at all.
Past the ticket counters (which have remarkably neat and orderly lines), you can make out a variety of neat mini-shops and restaurants from a variety of other corporations. All of them are packed too so it seems like this train station is a pretty active hub of commerce.
The only issue? Your group sticks out like a fucking sore thumb.
You see about one human for ever fifteen Drones and one Android for every hundred Drones. Any non-drone presence sticks out like a sore thumb in the haze of blank faces and samey grey and black business suits.
On the upside you know if you're being followed by any non-Drones. On the downside, you imagine hiding in this District is going to be pretty hard.
You thank your lucky stars that the fact this place is ran by Drones means you're in and out of the line within, what, two minutes? You're just about ready to use the GPS you got to get an idea where Molly is when a commotion catches your attention. It doesn't sound like a fight just yet but there's a LOT of shouting somewhere nearby.
The crowd is too busy staring at the floor or their phones to really notice it but you feel like you should at least check it out. Your group heads in the direction of the noise, ready to draw their weapons if you have to enter a fight THIS soon.
The source of the noise is quickly identified as a pair of Drone security guards preventing a man from exiting the train you were just on. You didn't notice this man while on it but now that you got a look on it, it's clear he's from the upper crust.
His suit has the tell-tale sign of it being NOUVEAU FABRIC by the teal stitching and veins running up and down his business suit. His briefcase, slicked blonde hair, and earpiece hanging out of his ear tells you he's probably a stock broker or something?
"What do you MEAN I can't exit? I have a ticket right here!" The broker waves it at the two Security Drones. "I even paid extra to prepay for a cab to drive me to my hotel!"
"WE APOLOGIZE SIR. HOWEVER WE WERE GIVEN A CREDIBLE TIP FROM AN ANONYMOUS SOURCE THAT IT WOULD BE A RISK TO ALLOW YOU ENTRANCE TO OUR DISTRICT." The taller one mumbles in the usual deadpan monotone Drones speak in.
"INDEED. WE ARE WILLING TO REFUND YOUR TICKET AND ALLOW YOU TO TRAVEL BACK WITH NO FURTHER PENALTY. HOWEVER, IF YOU ATTEMPT TO RESIST, WE ARE AUTHORIZED TO USE LETHAL FORCE."
"This is fucking bullshit! I'm supposed to be at a shareholder meeting with a Q-Corp subsidiary right now! I can't leave now, I have to be there in the next 30 mi-"
"WE APOLOGIZE, SIR, BUT WE HAVE REASONABLE DOUBT THAT YOU ARE AN IMPOSTER. OUR TIP WAS QUITE CREDIBLE."
The squabbling is only getting worse. Your eyes are drawn towards the Glock 83s hanging off their belts. This might get nasty.
